


Sweater Weather

by eratothemuse



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Holiday, NSFW, Oral, Oral Sex, Pumpkin pie, Smut, cursing, not safe for work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 11:12:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16891506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eratothemuse/pseuds/eratothemuse
Summary: Autumn comes with a lot of things: cool air, holiday traditions, the slow trek of walkers as they wander down the road. This fall, however, is your first spent with Negan. That brings a whole new handful of perks that you just can’t wait to fully take advantage of. (Set in season 7~ish?)





	Sweater Weather

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alreynolds13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alreynolds13/gifts).



> This is for the Fall Into Negan Challenge created by the lovely flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash [on tumblr] for the prompts of Crisp, Cool Air and Pumpkin Pie, two of my favorite things to come with the change of the season. (Also, the gif is mine!)  
> \- Meg <3 xx

“Ah,” Negan breathes as soon as he walks out of the Sanctuary, glancing at where you stood beside him with a crooked grin, “I fuckin’ love fall.”

“It sure is nippy outside, isn’t it?” you agree with a smile, pulling your jacket a little closer as the crisp air answers you with a gust. It was the kind of cold that warned of winter’s approach, having you thankful for the sweater layered beneath it. The trees were turning more and more as the season matured, their leaves falling to the ground in showers of oranges and reds. Autumn came with new perks now, the dead against the fence remind you with their groans. You nod towards a particularly decayed walker as you walk beside Negan, causing him to follow your gaze. It must have been there since the beginning of summer and wouldn’t last much longer before it had to be replaced. The knowledge that there are plenty more where that one came from is bittersweet and causes a frown as you say, “The walkers are slower, at least.”

“Don’t put up much of a challenge unless they’re in numbers, thanks to the chill,” Negan chuckles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes as he turns to stand in front of you, stopping your walk, “If only the living were as considerate.”

“You talkin’ about Rick’s group?” raising a brow, you dig your boot into the cement when he lets out an annoyed sigh before replacing his smirk. Of course he was talking about Rick. The world became a whole lot smaller when the dead started walking about and, in your experience with Negan, the people who defied him had never been as stubborn, or survived as long, as Rick Grimes.

“Who else? At least it’s interesting— fuckin’ with them— but every time I turn around, seems like those damn people are pulling some more shit out of their asses that requires more reeducation on my part,” Negan laments, making you walk a step towards him with a smirk of your own.

You smooth your hand along the leather of his jacket, noting how cold it felt even though you’d only been out in the autumn air for a short time, your fingers finding the edge of the scarf tucked within it, “Feels like that’s all you have time for anymore, to me. It’s hard being you, huh?”

His voice lowers a bit as he teases childishly, “It’s hard, all right.”

With a roll of your eyes, you back off as you hear his chuckle at the reaction he gets from you, “Don’t you have a run to go on?”

“Are you itching for me to leave, now? If I didn’t know better, you’d have me suspicious about what you get up to when I’m gone,” Negan matches the backstep you took with one of his own, playfully leaning towards you with Lucille over his shoulder. “You doin’ naughty things without me, sugar?”

“Hah!” you scoff, shaking your head. He’d been wanting to know what you’d been up to for the last week, but you weren’t giving in that easily, “How many times are you gonna’ ask before you figure it out? I’m not telling you… yet!”

“I could always make you,” his smile is still there, but his eyes had that dangerous glint they always got when he was half-threatening someone, as if excited at the possibility of a follow-through. If you were anyone else you might give into him out of fear. Luckily, you were you, and that had its own perks when it came to interacting with Negan.

“You could try, but then you might not be my favorite anymore,” you tease with a mischievous glance before silencing any more of his curiosity by pulling him at the collar of his leather jacket into a kiss. His lips are cold on the surface, but warm quickly against your own as hot breath contrasts the cool nip in the air around you noticeably. Negan abandons his hold at his hip in favor of gripping yours, the hand that held Lucille lowering the bat to his side in order for him to lean into your kiss. Negan easily dominates it despite the fact that you were the instigator, just as purposeful in kissing you as he was in anything. He smells like soap from the bath you’d shared that morning and the worn leather of his jacket, something you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of. You feel him smile into your kiss as his lips work against yours with amusement, a bit more exploratory than usual, you notice before chalking it up to his curiosity.

Negan leans back and breaks the kiss, making you frown even though you’d been the one telling him to leave just moments before, “When I get back I am getting that secret out of you, sugar, one way or another.” The dark humor in his eyes tells you exactly what he meant, making excitement shoot down your spine like it always did when Negan flirted with you.

Raising your nose indignantly, you cross your arms, but aren’t strong enough to keep from smiling, “We’ll see!”

The smack that comes to your ass as he walks past and towards the trucks gets a startled gasp from you that has Negan laughing, “Be ready!”

You send a glare after him, feeling the heat in your cheeks as you catch his eye when he climbs into the truck, only to send you a childish wiggle of his brow that has you cursing to yourself, “How the hell is he even a grown man?”

When you look away, you hear Negan shout towards some of the Saviors going with him, “Get your asses in gear!” Coming from the same exit of the Sanctuary you had is Simon, his pace quickening at Negan’s demanding shout.

You catch him before he can pass you, voice hushed, “Tell me you got it for me?”

“I did. Aren’t I just great?” Simon grins, turning towards you as he passes until, for as quickly as it takes him to finish the conversation, he’s walking backwards briefly, “It’s all in your room! You owe me.”

“I sure do!” you promise, holding your hands together in a grateful sign before he turns his back to you and carries on towards the trucks, hopping into the same one Negan was in. You’re pretty sure you hear Negan ask him what took him so long. Grinning, you let the sounds of the trucks pulling out push you in the opposite direction and towards the Sanctuary, excitement adding a skip to your step.

Autumn had always been your favorite time of year. Before the world went to shit, you reveled in the ritualistic preparations of the fall and the holidays that came with it. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas— you loved them all. The cool nip in the air that brought in the season had always given you a spark of excitement in anticipation of the times to come.

Now, though, there was hardly time to worry about such things as decorating for the holidays or even enjoying the seasonal goods that came with autumn. No, simply surviving took up all of your time. Even when you weren’t fighting for your life there were other important things to do and, until you found the Saviors, you hadn’t had the chance to so much as notice the dredge of the seasons past the way they affected your ability to stay alive. Since meeting Negan, you’d allowed a feeling of safety to creep back into your bones, if only enough for you to want this fall to be special again. A taste of normalcy that you hadn’t had in so long. In truth, this was as much for you as it was a thank-you gift to Negan.

And, God, it felt like forever since you had a slice of pumpkin pie.

It was much more difficult now to get the ingredients you required. That was why you’d enlisted Simon with the promise of doing him an eventual favor in return. You doubted he would have accepted your initial offer had you not held Negan’s favoritism, but part of you liked to think you had grown on Simon in the months after the end of winter when you’d joined them. Maybe even, you thought, he genuinely liked you a little by now. You’d learned it was hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t when it came to people nowadays, even more so with the uncertainty that Rick’s group had caused amongst the Saviors. Just because someone acts one way, doesn’t mean it’s true, especially where Negan’s involved.

Negan had a way about him that inspired either fear or admiration. In some cases, fear turned into hatred, while admiration turned into worship. You had noticed both extremes of the spectrum living under the Sanctuary roof. You admittedly fell on the side of admiration, though you could see yourself easily fearing him were you to break one of his rules, and were nowhere near the overzealousness of some Saviors. Negan could go from charming to terrifying in the blink of an eye. You’d seen it happen on multiple occasions and knew better than to get on his bad side.

But still, somewhere inside you, you actually cared for Negan. You stuck around for more than just the flirtatious or sexual relationship, despite how much you denied it. Negan was beautiful in the same way most deadly things are, his charm mixed with an overconfident air that promised to be the death of you, in one way or another. The offer to become his wife hung over your head, though you didn’t dare take it. Setting aside the fact that that would mean admitting you felt the way you did for him, you didn’t want the same life his other wives had— sitting in a room, waiting for Negan to return. You enjoyed staying busy and, perhaps, you were even addicted to the adrenaline that came when you left the Sanctuary’s protective walls.

It was that small freedom that let you put together plans like today.

A smile lights your face as you let the door leading into the Sanctuary swing closed behind you, your feet carrying you further into the dimly lit halls. If Simon really did pull off your request, you’d have to thank him properly later. What you managed to scramble up thus far hadn’t been much, but it was enough for you to make a single pie. The only thing you were missing was the key ingredient, the pumpkin pie mix. Your heart skips as you wonder if Negan will enjoy it just as much as you would. In all honesty, you didn’t really know if he liked pumpkin pie, you could only hope.

Pushing yourself forwards, you share a “hello” here and there whenever you pass a familiar face until you reach your room. You had no time to stop and chat; there were more important things at hand.

“Alright, now, where are you?” you hum to yourself as you glance around your assigned room in search of Simon’s helpful gift. This room was an upgrade from most accommodations in the Sanctuary, for sure, with it’s own couch and a window. However, it still looked barren compared to how a real home’s bedroom would appear, aside from the way your clothes littered it. They seemed to escape the drawer, not properly folded, and you made a mental note to tidy up later. It only takes a quick glance of the room to find where Simon had left it, sitting atop the table near your bed with a scrap of paper that reminded you of your debt to him beside it. With a grin, you scoop up the last ingredient, checking the can of pumpkin filling for a moment to make sure it was in good enough condition to be eaten, before settling on the deadline that it was just under, “Nice going, Simon!”

The can had seen better days judging from its outside covering, though it wasn’t punctured or protruding, and no doubt the contents within the ragged display were still good. You had all you needed, your mouth already watering at the concept before you rummage through one of your dresser drawers for the other ingredients. Certain things you would have to make from scratch, so you figured getting to it sooner rather than later was your best bet if you wanted the pie to be finished by the time Negan got back.

It was an off time from lunch or dinner, so the kitchen was relatively vacant. You would have free reign. As you placed the ingredients onto the counter, you couldn’t help the calming feeling that came. You hadn’t properly baked something in so long, though the memory was fresh in your mind. It focused you and, for a moment, you could see yourself from before the walkers, making this same traditional pie for the collection of friends that would be crammed into your house around a table that couldn’t truly fit all of you. Sadness seeps into the memory as you wonder if they’ve lasted as long as you have. Part of you knew that they couldn’t all still be alive, but you liked to hope.

Shaking the reminiscence away, you focus on the task at hand. The step-wise fashion of baking is easy enough to lose yourself to, letting the steady measurement and addition of one ingredient to the next occupy your thoughts completely. No one interrupts you, the few people who were initially in the kitchen dispersing as the time ticked on. Without really realizing it, you find yourself humming a song you can’t fully remember the words to, but the tune was something you remember enjoying. The melody carries you methodically until the pie tin you’d collected slowly filled with dough and pumpkin filling, the fruits of your labor being swept into the awaiting oven as if rehearsed.

The timer clicks as you set it with two quick turns, settling on about an hour from the moment you put it in. Checking the clock on the wall, you notice that an hour has already passed, making you frown at how slowly you worked. Perhaps you weren’t as efficient as you thought you were, thanks to it being so long since you’d done it. Still, though, the pie was in the oven, at least. Maybe Negan wouldn’t be back until it was done. Slipping the timer into the deep pocket of your jacket, you abandon the kitchen. After all, you still had your other work to get done.

It was the buzzing of the timer that pulled you back to the kitchen. Of course, you hadn’t been able to finish all of your work in a mere hour, but there was still time if you didn’t get distracted. The rich smell of sweet spices and pumpkin fills your lungs the closer you get to the oven and you readily take a deep breath of it. Placing the timer back where it came from, you grab a thick oven mitt and check on the pie. It was a perfect color, rich orange with a golden crust. You grin in satisfaction at your work as you take it from the heat, placing it carefully on the countertop to cool.

“Pretty good, for being rusty,” you chuckle, congratulating yourself that you had properly remembered the recipe. Before you can even so much as remove your oven mitt, strong arms capture your waist and pull you into a hard chest, causing you to gasp in shock before you hear the familiar voice behind you.

“Is that what you’ve been up to all day?” Negan’s breath fans across your neck as he teases you with the gentle scratch of his beard and his closeness. You couldn’t help the startled blush that he’d earned by taking you by surprise.

You turn in his arms easily enough, giving a gentle smack to his arm that you know doesn’t really hurt him, “Don’t sneak up on me like that, Negan!” He’d apparently lost the leather jacket since he’d returned, a factor in why you hadn’t heard his approach. You subconsciously pout at the thought that he’d done it just to sneak up on you.

Your suspicions are confirmed by the laugh that comes from him, genuinely amused that he could still make you jump, all the while ignoring your protest in favor of moving towards the cooling pie on the counter, “Is this for me? What a thing to come home to.” His eyes study the pie for only a moment before they slip back to you, Negan reaching out to pull you by the elbow of your crossed arms towards him as his smirk widens, “You’ve been baking up a fucking storm, darlin’! What? You wanna’ play house with me?”

Scoffing at him, you smile despite yourself at his attempt at flirting that still somehow worked for him, “What makes you think I’d want to play house with you, Negan?”

“Aw, that’s cold, (Y/N),” Negan hums before looking towards the pie and reaching for it, only for you to smack his hand and get a slightly shocked look from him.

“I just took it out! It still needs to cool,” you smirk at his disappointed face, smoothing your hands along his waist before they easily settle at the belt at his hips, “but the pie  _is_  for you, Negan. Took me a while to find all the ingredients, but Simon helped me out. I wanted to give you something as a thank-you.” You pause before admitting cheekily, “Plus, I just wanted some pumpkin pie.”

“I think you’ve more than thanked me, sugar,” Negan smirks, raising his hand to hook his index under your chin and massage your jaw with his thumb, still managing to look down at you despite how he leaned on the counter thanks to his height, “This was a really fuckin’ cute thing of you to do, you know that?”

“I do cute things sometimes,” you shrug jokingly, making his smile widen as you continue sarcastically, “between being a badass all the time.”

“I’ll admit, the pie is a good surprise, but I’m a bit disappointed that there’s no secret to get out of you anymore. I came up with a few damn good ideas on how to do that while I was gone, too.”

“Is that why you’re back so quick?” you ask, getting the answer in the way his eyes flick to your lips, “You usually take longer in Alexandria.”

“Don’t even talk about Alexandria right now,” Negan sighs, clearly reminded of whatever annoyance had occurred at the colony. His smirk is back as soon as it’s gone, though, “How long does that thing have to cool?”

“Probably like, thirty minutes maybe? I mean, I was going to add cool-whip to it and didn’t want that to melt,” you shrug uncertainly. You were just going to play it by ear and had no definite time frame for how long it would truly take.

“If you want, I could spend those thirty minutes fucking the absolute shit out of you,” Negan looked right pleased with himself at the idea, his teeth shining through his grin as he clearly waits for the positive answer that he already knows he’ll get. You could name on one hand the amount of times you’d refused him before, and you honestly didn’t want to add to the list right now. With a simple shifting of his weight, he comes off of where he was leaning on the counter to instead lean towards you and continue, “Right here.”

“Negan!” you quickly retort in a hushed voice, glancing towards the kitchen’s entrance embarrassingly and gladly seeing no one had caught his offer aside from you. “This is the  _kitchen_!”

“And I have the key to the door if you’re so worried someone will see,” he was clearly amused at how scandalized you appeared at the suggestion of public sex— or as close as it came in the Sanctuary. You debate it for a moment before giving him a nod.

You’d be lying if you said the idea didn’t send a spark of excitement through you, “Alright, but only if the door is locked! I don’t want someone walking in on us, like Eugene or Dwight.”

Negan captures your lips briefly with his own— far too briefly for your liking, in fact— before releasing with a, “Yes, ma’am.” As he maneuvers around you to head towards the open doorway, he lets out a chuckle at his own amusing thoughts, “If either of them did come in, at least they’d see how to properly fuck a woman.” He grins over his shoulder at you as he fishes the keys out of his low-hanging back pocket, causing your eyes to follow the motion and spend a good span of time admiring his backside while you took up his spot on the counter, “Hell, it would be a public service.”

“I’d prefer not to be part of their learning-lesson, thanks,” you shoot back before the door properly locks into place. Negan dumps the keys onto another area of the counter top as he turns on you, looking thoroughly satisfied at having you cornered between him and the countertops. A shadow overcomes Negan’s features as he strolls towards you leisurely, knowing you weren’t about to be going anywhere.

He pretends as if he is debating something before he verbalizes, “I guess instead of punishing you for keeping a secret from me, I could reward you for being such a good girl. Baking something special for me? Can’t say I’ve had that in a long damn time.” If you didn’t know better, you’d say the statement was laced in a bit of melancholy remembrance, though it was gone as soon as you thought it. In moments, you find him standing before you, the toes of his boots matching yours while he hums as if he hasn’t already decided what comes next, “What should I do with you?”

“I’m always up for some positive-reinforcement,” you smirk up at him, watching as his dark eyes squint a bit at you, taking you in. You had lost your jacket in the time it took him to lock the door, now only wearing the oversized sweater, jeans, and boots.

“Ho-ly shit, is that mine?” he asks, reaching to grasp the hem of your sweater as he studied it for a second, his smirk widening, “Wearing my clothes now?”

“You didn’t notice this morning?” you laugh. “It’s the one you don’t wear much.”

He shakes his head, pushing you against the counter with his hips as his hands smooth underneath the sweater, “I was a little too preoccupied to notice. It’s hot on you. You should wear my stuff more often.”

“Maybe next time I’ll wear your jacket,” you murmur before kissing at his jaw, working your way to his neck before you add, “ _only_  your jacket.”

“Fuck,” Negan groans at the thought, pushing you away only so he can practically rip the sweater over your head before crushing your lips with his. Your hands instinctively go to his hair, messing up the kept look but he didn’t care in the least. The stubble that framed his lips scratch the skin it touches as he kisses you deeply, the burn coming in the rhythmic intervals of the kiss. He had gone only a few days without shaving, but the beard was coming back in full force, not that you were complaining.

Moaning into him, you pull him towards you with the winding of your calf around his own, forcing his hands to go from where they had been undoing your bra to your thigh. Negan tugs at the flesh there, pulling you flush against him and grinding into you hard enough that you can feel it through the thick denim at your crotch and his. Your whole body was warm even with your lack of the sweater, all thanks to him. You hadn’t thought the scent of the kitchen could be better when you’d first entered the room, but you had been wrong. The spice of the pie mingled with the scent of the man against you in the most delightful way. You craved both, in completely different contexts.

Before you know it, he’s pulling your bra away from your chest, removing it before his hands slip to the button of your jeans. You roll your hips against him and tug at his hair, getting a nip to your lip in return as a warning. He breaks the kiss to shove your pants down your thighs, which you take the rest of the way off with a kick after removing your boots.

“C’mere,” he growls before lifting you onto the countertop and kissing you again long enough to completely have you losing your mind.

“Okay, these are coming off, right now,” you breathe as you pull him towards you by the belt, enjoying the wolfish grin he gives you before it’s buried into your neck. Working at his belt, it slips off easily enough, falling to the tile with a metallic clang. His groan muffles as it comes out against your heated skin when your hand slips within his unzipped jeans, feeling the semi-hard-on he already has. Negan’s teeth drag down the skin of your collarbone with his tongue while you stroke him. He pushes his jeans and underwear down his hips with two thumbs hooked into either side, but not fully off since that would mean having to remove himself from your grip.

“Shit,” he sighs against your breast as your fingers circle his tip, before going back down his shaft. Negan moves his hand over one breast while he kisses along the other, focusing on your nipples occasionally as he shallowly thrusts into your hand. His eyes flick up to yours, making your breath catch at the intensity in them. You arch into him as his hand slips down your stomach to grip at the waistband of your panties. You get the idea easily enough, releasing him and lifting your hips just as he moves from between your thighs to tug them off. He doesn’t bother with his own pants, instead removing the white shirt that clung to him perfectly. His smile never wavers as he drops to a crouch, getting a startled gasp from you as he pulls you by his hands at both your thighs to the edge of the counter.

“Negan,” you mewl, feeling your face heat much like it always did when he went down on you. It was embarrassing still, having him that close, despite how many times you’d been with him. Almost instinctively, you begin, “You don’t have to—”

“Don’t even start with that shit,” Negan’s eyes snap back to yours at the slightly self-conscious protest, his fingers smoothing along your inner thighs until he presses them against your clit, sending a jolt through your bones that has you edging more towards the cliff of the counter. “I’m rewarding you, remember?” His lips brush against your thigh, beard scraping the increasingly sensitive skin and having you breathing faster in anticipation as he kisses the junction of your thigh. “Not that I’m not about to thoroughly fucking enjoy myself right now.”

You nearly have enough time to say something in response, but any functioning of your brain is obliterated as soon as Negan buries his face into your core. Your head falls back in a sputtered moan as your lungs try to properly operate. The heels of your feet dig instinctively into his shoulder blades, pulling him closer until his elbows rested on the counter, his fingers alternating between gripping and splaying along your thighs as he works you over in the best way possible.

He has you gasping out his name, the only thing your mind can process aside from the overstimulation of his tongue and lips between your thighs. If this was the reward you got, you would have to cook for him more often, you think in a brief instant of clarity. You were trying your best not to be overly loud, curses mixed with calls of his name leaving your mouth in a chorus of hushed whispers and low moans.

Apparently, Negan doesn’t like that.

He backs away from you only slightly and gives a sharp smack to the side of your thigh, “Don’t be quiet over there, darlin’. I want to hear you.” When he returns to his work, he takes his hand with him, slipping a finger along your soaked folds before slipping it inside of you. It doesn’t take long before you’re ready for a second finger and, when he inserts it, he gets a louder moan from you. It spurs him on, the fingers picking up a more torturous pace that has you arching off the counter in an effort to get more.

Negan leans back just to talk shit, as he frequently did, “Getting greedy, huh? Is this not enough for you?” He accentuates the question with a curl of his fingers within you, “You want my dick, don’t you, (Y/N)?”

“Negan,” you whine as his fingers slow within you teasingly, “please.”

“What is it you want? I’ll make you cum either way,” he promises, reaching to rub your clit with his thumb as he stands up, his fingers moving in slow thrusts that were just enough to make almost hate him for the tease. The deep growl in Negan’s voice as he orders, “Tell me what you want,” has you nearly going over the edge, but it wasn’t enough.

“I want it, okay? I want your dick! Quit playing around and just fuck me already, Negan,” you growl back, getting a chuckle from him. He winds his arm around your waist and pulls you against his chest, removing his fingers and leaving you feeling unpleasantly empty and unsatisfied for the moment it takes for him to position himself.

Negan’s still not done teasing you, though, pressing the tip of his dick against your entrance and not quite pushing in as he chuckles, “You want it, darlin’?”

“Negan!” you chastise in annoyance, getting a wide grin from the man who loved fucking you  _and_  fucking with you. He answers you with the gradual push of himself into you. Just like that, you forgive him for his teasing, gripping at his shoulders while your legs hang from on either side of his hips. Negan’s hand finds purchase in the crook of your knee while the other grips the edge of the countertop. With each thrust, he goes a bit deeper until his lower abdomen smacks against yours.

“You’re always tight as fuck,” he groans, eyes shutting for a moment as he enjoys the feeling his thrusts brought as you clenched your inner walls around him. Your throat was dry, all the moaning taking a toll already.

“Maybe you’re just big,” you shoot back, breathless. His eyes slip back open and he leans towards you, pleasure written on his face in the most erotic of ways.

“You always know just what to say, don’t you?” Negan’s eyes flick to your lips and in an instant you’re pushing yourself forward to meet him in the kiss, arms wrapped around his neck as he picks up the pace. The kiss is sloppy, lost sometimes in the distraction of your body against his own, but neither of you break it.

At some point, Negan releases the countertop to curl his fingers around your neck, the feeling causing you to lose yourself completely. That’s the moment the kiss breaks— you tumbling down the rabbit hole of your orgasm with his hand at your neck and his thrusts neverending.

“Oh, fuck, oh, fuck,” Negan murmurs, quickly following as you pull him along with you, the erratic contractions of your body disabling his ability to stay on rhythm any longer. His hands release you only to wrap around your waist as he pounds out his orgasm within you with a few last, desperate thrusts.

You hum in satisfaction, giving him a weak grin as you bask in the afterglow for a bit before he slips out of you and tucks himself back into his jeans, “I’m pretty sure the pie is cool by now.”

Negan glances at the pumpkin pie that sat on the opposite counter, quite forgotten for the last thirty minutes, before he fixes you with a mischievous look,  “Throw on your clothes and bring the pie to my room. I want a slice, because that thing looks damn good.”

You can’t help but laugh, nodding towards a cupboard, “Will you get the plates, then?”

“Sure.” Negan quickly goes for it while you make an effort to put on your clothes, having thrown the sweater back over your form before Negan trows you a mischievous look as he retrieves the plates, “Maybe afterwards, you can even follow trough with the ‘only in my jacket’ thing you were talking about earlier, darlin’.”


End file.
